THE FLOOD
Larry went home, all excited over the prospects of his trip. It was the
biggest thing he had yet been assigned to do in newspaper work, and he
felt that it might be the stepping stone to a larger field.
“You’ll be careful now, won’t you, Larry?” his mother pleaded as she
packed a valise of clothes for him, since Mr. Emberg had said the trip
would probably last several days.
“I will, mother,” promised the boy.
“Write every day,” Mrs. Dexter continued, “and let us know how you are
getting on.”
“Do you think Lucy will be all right?” asked Larry.
“I think so,” said the nurse, who had come into the room. “Her general
health is much better, though of course we cannot tell about the main
thing; that is, whether she will walk again.”
Larry went into the room to bid his sister good-bye. Lucy was stretched
out in bed, her limbs and back held rigid by the heavy plaster cast.
She smiled at her brother.
“So you’re going to run away and leave me?” she said in a joking tone.
“I’ll come back whenever you send for me,” spoke Larry.
“When you come back perhaps I’ll be walking around,” said the girl with
a smile.
Larry bade his mother, sisters, and brother, as well as the nurse,
good-bye, and then went to the railroad station where he was to meet
Mr. Newton. It was raining hard, as it had been for a week past.
“If this keeps up I’m afraid there’ll be trouble at the dam,” thought
Larry, as he splashed through a big puddle.
He found the reporter waiting for him. Mr. Newton was attired in a long
rain coat, and he had a big dress-suit case with him, that seemed well
filled.
“Got any rubber boots?” he asked Larry, as soon as the latter greeted
him.
“No. Why?”
“Because you’ll need ’em if this sort of weather keeps up. You wait
here and I’ll go and buy you a pair. What size do you wear?”
“About six, I guess,” replied Larry.
Mr. Newton hurried out and returned, bearing a bundle.
“There you are,” said the reporter. “They’ll keep your feet dry,
anyhow.”
A few minutes later their train was called and the two went out on the
long platform along which the cars stood.
“It’s hardly worth while taking a sleeper,” said Mr. Newton. “We’ll get
there about midnight, and I’ve wired for rooms at the only hotel in the
village. Can’t tell whether we’ll get ’em, or not, the way things are.”
It was a good deal like being a soldier, Larry thought, to be a
reporter on a big paper. You never knew where you were going, nor
when. At one minute you might be engaged in writing up a peaceful bit
of news, and the next be sent far away to report raging floods or big
fires. But Larry liked the excitement, and he felt that there was no
finer or more responsible calling.
To be a reporter on a big paper meant to be able to command much power,
which, if rightly used, proved of great value. A reporter is, in a way,
his own master, serving only his paper.
Through the storm splashed the train. The wind howled around it and the
rain beat upon it, but those inside were comfortable and warm.
Larry and Mr. Newton found seats together and they settled down into
them, to listen to the roar of the storm, and the puffing of the engine
until they came to their destination. Progress was slow, because the
railroad line was not as safe as usual. Once they were delayed an hour
by a lot of sand washing down on the track. The train crew had to get
out and shovel it off.
Again they came to so sudden a stop that several of the passengers were
thrown from their seats.
“We hit something that time,” exclaimed Mr. Newton.
“Felt so,” replied Larry.
Nearly everyone in the cars piled out in spite of the rain. Larry and
Mr. Newton followed their example. They found that the locomotive had
struck a big rock that had been loosened from a bluff by the rain, and
had fallen down on the track. But for the fact that the engineer saw it
in time, and put on brakes, there might have been a serious accident.
As it was, the pilot of the locomotive was smashed.
There was a delay of two hours this time before the rock could be
removed, and when the train at last got under way, and pulled into
Stoneville, they were more than three hours behind time.
“It’s after four o’clock,” said Mr. Newton as he got off the coach and
looked at his watch. “Hardly worth while to go to bed.”
They found a number of people gathered at the station.
“What’s going on?” asked Mr. Newton, of a man who was walking up and
down the platform. “Everybody get up early to catch a train?”
“We haven’t been to bed,” was the answer. “The dam’s liable to give
way any minute, and we’re a sort of guard watch. As soon as she
breaks there’s a man up there near it, who’s going to let us know by
telegraph, so we can get our folks out of the way. There’s a telegraph
instrument in the depot here, and so we’re hanging around for news.
Say, but it’s rainin’ cats an’ dogs, ain’t it?”
“It certainly is,” replied Mr. Newton. “Where’s the hotel?”
“Right up that street,” replied the man. “Guess you’ll have trouble
getting rooms, though. Lots of people have gone there for fear their
houses’ll be washed away.”
“Is it as bad as that?”
“Yes, and it’ll be worse before many hours. The dam can’t stand much
longer.”
Protecting themselves as best they could from the storm, Larry and Mr.
Newton made their way to the hotel. As the man had said, they found it
crowded, but a small room had been reserved for them on the strength of
Mr. Newton’s message.
“You’ll have to put up with what you find,” said the clerk of the
hotel. “We’re crowded for room, and we’ll be more so shortly.”
“We don’t mind,” spoke Mr. Newton. “We’ll not be in very much, I guess.
The most we’ll want will be meals.”
“I can promise you them at any rate,” said the clerk.
They registered, and were shown to their room. The rain was coming
down harder than ever, but in spite of that Larry and his friend lay
down and managed to get a few hours’ sleep. After breakfast, which they
ate in a crowded dining room, where the only conversation was about
the rain and the danger from the dam, they donned their rain coats and
rubber boots and, with umbrellas, went out.
“Will you tell us where the dam is?” asked Mr. Newton of the first man
he met.
“Right straight up that street,” was the answer. “Don’t you hear a sort
of roar?”
“Yes, what is it?” asked the reporter.
“The water coming through the emergency outlets,” was the answer. “The
flood has not yet risen above the dam, but it will soon.”
Larry and his friend went in the direction pointed out. They were
not the only ones on the street, for in spite of the downpour scores
of persons were on their way to the dam, to see what had happened
overnight.
As they came nearer the roar became louder, until as they turned down a
side street leading to the river, they could hear the flood of waters
tearing its way along like a miniature Niagara. Then, a few minutes
later, they came in sight of the big reservoir, fed by a comparatively
small stream in ordinary times, but which had now become a raging
torrent from the overabundance of rain.
In front of them, in a sort of hollow of the hills, was a vast body of
water. It was about half a mile wide, and backed up for several miles.
The dam was about two thousand feet in length, strongly constructed. In
ordinary seasons the water hardly came to within half-way of the top,
but now only two feet separated the spill-way from the surface of the
muddy swirling water.
In order to relieve the pressure on the big pile of stone and cement
the men at the dam had opened three emergency outlets. These were big
openings in the face of the dam, considerably below the top.
Through these the water was rushing with the strength of ten thousand
horses. It spurted out in solid streams and shot into the bed of the
stream below like a geyser. The little river, that ordinarily sufficed
to carry off the overflow of water, was now a vast torrent and was
rushing along with terrific speed.
Many houses were along its banks and some of these were already in
danger of the flood. The water had reached nearly to the first floors,
after flooding the cellars, and the people had deserted their homes.
“Well, I would say this was something of a flood,” spoke Mr. Newton
after looking the scene over. “There’s going to be some news here or
I’m mistaken. I must get to work and write a descriptive story.”
“What can I do?” asked Larry.
“There’ll be plenty of work for both of us, or I’ll miss my guess.
First you can find out where the nearest telegraph station is, and then
make arrangements to send copy by wire.”
“There’s a telegraph in the railroad office,” said Larry.
“That will hardly do for us. It is probably for railroad messages only.
You must find a regular place, where they will take press copy. When
you do, come back to the hotel and I’ll meet you there.”
After spending a little while looking at the river and reservoir Larry
went on his errand. By inquiring he located a Western Union office, and
made arrangements with the operator.
“Only I’ll not guarantee anything,” said the man in charge. “No telling
when the wires may go down and out of business. I’ll send stuff as long
as I can, and then I’ll have to quit.”